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I inherited a love of travel from my mom. As a young woman with a stepdad in the Air Force, my mom had the opportunity to live and study in Germany and Greece, as well as travel to other places. A friendly, intelligent and cultured woman, my mom seized every opportunity to learn about other cultures and countries. So when an acquaintance from Turkey suggested she come visit sometime and she could stay with his family, where some might laugh such a suggestion off with an “oh, that’s so very kind, but I couldn’t,” my mom jumped on the chance. I was only 11 at the time so I have no idea what went into the planning of our two-week trip to Turkey. I only remember bits and pieces now. What I do remember clearly is the kindness of our hosts, an amazing dish called manti; and the lifelong lesson my blonde, blue-eyed mom taught me on that trip: we, as humans, have more in common than we realize, no matter our background. It’s important to include that my mom, who passed away from breast cancer in 2008, was a member of the Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints, or Mormon. She was extremely faithful to her religion and shared it with everyone she met. But I remember her as being respectfully curious about other people’s beliefs as well. All of our hosts in Turkey were Muslim, and I have one distinct memory of my mother discussing prayer with one of the families we stayed with. Practitioners of Islam pray five times a day at prescribed times. In the Mormon faith, we are encouraged to have personal prayer twice a day, morning and night, family prayer where applicable, also twice a day, and we bless our meals. In total, that can amount to praying seven times a day. My mom did these calculations in answer to our Islamic hosts’ questions. I remember them being delighted to know we prayed so much and complimenting us on it. Those familiar with the Islamic faith also know that they value family and modest clothing, values again shared by Mormons. We willingly donned headscarves and ensured our arms and legs were covered to be able to enter Mosques with our hosts. We bowed our heads when it was time for them to pray. I remember playing “cat’s cradle” with a girl about my age in one family’s home, and everyone enjoyed the fact that although we didn’t speak the same language, that barrier was meaningless to two young girls who wanted to play. My mom may or may not have realized what she was teaching me at the time, and I didn’t think to ask her about it before she passed away. But I have held on to these things as true and important parts of humanity: we all have things in common. The fact my mom opted to take this trip to a predominantly Muslim country after the events of 9/11 is not lost on me. I believe she knew how to differentiate between the few radicals and the normal, everyday people who just want to practice their religion in peace. She shaped me in many important ways, but this may be the most important: she taught me not to fear any kind of differences and especially not to fear people who are “different” than me. She taught me to respect, learn, and embrace them—the differences and the people. And that, I think, is the key to getting the most out of traveling and out of life. I’ve since had opportunities to live in Ukraine, Russia and Latvia for months at a time, and the best memories of those adventures have always come from connecting with local people, many of whom continue to be dear friends. There are lots of things to get out of travel, but my mom taught me the most meaningful experiences will always come from connecting with others.